By the time we returned to the estate, the sun had completely set.
Even after stepping off the carriage, the girl didn't utter a single word. She walked, stopped, and bowed exactly as instructed. She was far too submissive. It was enough to make me worry.
After showing her to a room and having a change of clothes prepared, I finally took a breather—and then it hit me. Had this girl even bathed recently? Or at all, for that matter?
The clock read eight in the evening. In my internal clock, that was the prime hour for a soak.
Baths are wonderful. They are a supreme luxury, a gift from the heavens that resets the day's fatigue.
And then, I thought about it. I thought about what it meant to take "responsibility for a life."
"...Alright."
Steeling my resolve, I led the girl to where my mother was waiting.
"I'll be the one to give her a bath today," I announced.
"...Eh?"
My mother and her attendant, Moore, froze simultaneously.
"Are you quite certain that is appropriate, Master Luka?" Moore asked hesitantly.
"That’s right, Luka-chan. We can handle that for you, you know?" my mother added.
Their worried gazes pierced through me. Honestly, they didn't need to fret. I might look like a kid, but on the inside, I was—well, barely a kid, so it was fine. (Not that I had any real evidence for that.)
"It's fine. I'm already seven, after all."
To be honest, it was getting to the point where I felt embarrassed about having bathed with them until quite recently. They probably didn't think twice about it, but in his own way, my "little comrade" was weeping.
"...Besides, you can't talk about life without mentioning baths."
"...?"
"I'm the one who took her in, right? I'll do it myself, at least for the first time."
Moore was momentarily at a loss for words. "However, Master Luka..."
"It’ll be fine."
Everyone was so overprotective. They’d experienced my back-scrubbing techniques firsthand, hadn't they? No matter who the opponent was, I’d send them straight to nirvana.
"This girl is my slave."
With those words, the air grew still. Mother stared at me for a long while before letting out a small, resigned sigh.
"...I understand. However, call for us immediately if anything happens."
"Roger that."
With that settled, I turned back to the girl.
"Shall we go?"
"...Yes."
Her reply was short and lacked any hesitation. That tugged at my heart just a little bit. She had a beautiful face, but I was determined to bring a real smile back to it.
I tried to recall a comedy duo's routine from my previous life to cheer her up, but I realized I didn't have a partner. Oh well, I guess I'll have to go solo. (I put on a face of firm determination.)
As we walked down the hallway toward the bathhouse, I tried to match her pace, yet she stayed exactly half a step behind me.
"...Can you come a little closer?" I asked. These things always start with narrowing the physical distance.
"...I understand."
She immediately moved half a step forward. But the distance didn't actually change. She refused to walk at my "side."
...Farewell, my hopes and dreams. I'll leave the rest to you.
Wait, that was dangerous. My consciousness almost drifted away from the shock. To this girl, I clearly wasn't a person she could trust yet. She viewed our relationship strictly as master and servant.
I wanted to tell her right then: I’ve never been the type to give orders. I couldn't even get the imperative mood right on my grammar tests back in the day, which is why my grades were so bad. Therefore, commands are evil.
Stopping in front of the door, I took a deep breath.
Wait... am I really about to get in the bath with a girl? (The realization finally caught up with me.)
Crap, I might have been operating on autopilot. No, no, pull yourself together, me. This is an act of kindness. Think of nothing but getting this girl clean!
When I pushed the door open, a soft puff of steam drifted out. It was a spacious bathhouse with stone floors and a large tub of quiet, shimmering water. The lighting was soft, creating a calm, nighttime atmosphere. It felt like a high-end hot spring, which always got my spirits up.
"First, put your clothes here," I said, pointing to the changing basket.
I immediately averted my eyes. That was just basic manners.
"I'll be busy counting the spots on the ceiling."
"...Yes."
Yep, not a single spot. Should I count sheep next?
I heard the rustle of fabric. The room was so quiet that the sound was incredibly conspicuous. I stared intently at the patterns on the wall. This was definitely the behavior of someone trying to hide their extreme awkwardness.
"...I am finished."
That was faster than I thought.
"Then, before we get in the tub, let's rinse off."
I picked up a bucket and scooped up some warm water. She watched my movements intently. As I helped her rinse, I caught a glimpse of her back; it was genuinely beautiful. Would I get smacked if I said it was as smooth as a snowy rice cake? Probably. I kept the thought to myself.
"...Is it too cold?"
"It is fine."
An immediate, mechanical answer. There was no room for emotion to leak through. I frowned slightly.
"If you don't like something, you can say so, okay?"
"...Is that an order?"
For a moment, I didn't understand her question. "Eh?"
"To get in the bath... I assumed I was commanded to do so."
Ah, so that's how she took it...
"No, no," I said with a wry smile. "It's not an order. At the very least, I think of you as my equal."
"...Equal?"
"Yeah. Like, starting as friends first?"
She cast her eyes down, pausing as if to process the concept.
"...Then, even if I refuse..."
"That's fine too," I answered instantly. (Though, please don't refuse being friends, or I'll actually cry.) "I will never do anything you hate. I promise."
"...Is that so?"
There was the slightest tremor in her voice. I pretended not to notice and prompted her to continue.
"Let's get in the water."
"...Yes."
This time, there was a tiny pause before she answered. I took that as a win. It meant she still had a heart under that shell.
As she soaked in the hot water, her shoulders shook slightly.
"...It is warm."
"Right?"
I felt like that single sentence was the most like a normal child she had sounded all day. Internally, I pumped a fist in victory. I almost performed a sliding celebration that would put a pro soccer player to shame.
This was the first step. I didn't need to do anything grand. Just take a bath, wash up, and end the day. That was all. This was a philosophy I’d learned from an old man at a public bathhouse once. Thanks, old-timer. You weren't wrong. Naked communication really is the ultimate icebreaker.
For a while, we sat in the quiet, steamy room. She remained at the edge of the tub, her posture as straight as a board. She really didn't know how to relax. Or maybe her posture was just naturally perfect?
"...Ah." I realized I had forgotten something important. "By the way."
"...?" She looked toward me.
"Do you really not have a name?"
The answer didn't come immediately. For a moment, her eyes wavered, as if time had stopped.
"...I do not," she said in a flat voice.
I felt there was more to it, but I didn't pry.
"Were you never called anything before?"
"...No."
I rested my elbows on the edge of the tub and looked up at the ceiling.
"Well then... can I give you a name?"
"...A name?"
"Yeah. You need one, don't you?"
She looked a bit troubled. "I... do not need one."
"Well, I want you to have one," I countered.
She looked at me blankly.
"For when I want to talk to you. Calling you 'Hey' or 'You' feels wrong."
"..."
"Besides," I lowered my voice slightly, "I think you need a name to truly live."
At those words, her fingertips moved slightly beneath the surface of the water.
"...Will you be the one to decide it, Master?"
"I have a candidate in mind." (And I almost writhed in agony from being called "Master" like that. Someone needs to take responsibility for my heart rate.)
I shook it off and looked at her. "If you don't like it, we can change it."
"...I am allowed to change it?"
"Of course." Simple is best, after all. "How does 'Yuka' sound?"
She slowly let the sound roll around in her mouth. "...Yuka."
"There's a tree called the Eucalyptus. I'm not trying to act like a scholar or anything, but back in my—well, I heard once that in the language of flowers, it means 'happiness.'"
"...Happiness."
(I definitely saw it on a koala documentary.)
"So, I thought it would be a good fit for you."
A long silence followed. But it wasn't the hollow silence from before; it was a contemplative one.
"...That name..."
"Yeah?"
"I will cherish it. I will use it from now on." Her voice was quiet, but firm.
"Then it's settled." I gave her a wide grin. "Nice to meet you, Yuka."
"...Yes."
Her reply was just a fraction softer than before. Even though I had only called her name, the temperature of the water seemed to rise just a bit.
Happiness, huh? I knew it wouldn't be an easy road. But we had to start somewhere, and a name was as good a place as any.
The "Naked Communication" theory had proven its worth once again. And thanks for the tip, Mr. Koala. Today’s mission was a resounding success.